Bryan "Bomber" Wells, the former Gloucestershire and Nottinghamshire off-spinner who has died aged 77, was one of county cricket's genuine comic figures - in the physical way he played the game, and with the dry wit he imparted to many a captive audience for years afterwards. As a bowler himself, well fleshed and uncoordinated, he put the crowds in good mood with his quirky approach to the game and to authority in general.

Gloucestershire already had two off-spinners of Test calibre, John Mortimore and David Allen, but they still gambled at times by playing Bomber as well. His method came from no bowler's manual; he claimed he used the palm of his hand almost as much as his fingers. He didn't believe in run-ups. He might settle for one, two or three paces, sometimes none at all. "I liked to take the batsman by surprise," he would say.

He was rarely a man in a hurry, yet the speed with which he got through an over would irritate one captain in particular, Sir Derrick Bailey. "Play the game sensibly for heaven's sake. You're making it a mockery with that sort of token run-up," the skipper would rasp. The Wells response was extreme, insubordinate or funny, according to one's point of view. With great deliberation, he paced back another five or so steps and then tossed the ball at the other wicket from 27 or 28 yards. Those who watched swore it was on a perfect length. He also liked to throw leg-breaks into his mix - something else that irked Sir Derrick.

In all Wells took 998 wickets. Three times he passed 100 wickets in a season, well served by his close fielders and the sadly unfulfilled Peter Rochford, rated by Bomber as the county's finest wicket-keeper. He played from 1951 to 1959 for his native county, taking 544 wickets.

Wells came from Gloucester, and made his county debut against Sussex on a day's notice because Tom Goddard was ill and Sam Cook injured. He was badly prepared, having to borrow kit from his mates. He travelled to Bristol that day on the bus and arrived, with not much time to spare, clutching a bottle of lemonade and a doughnut. Sussex had only lost one wicket by lunch, but he went on to take half a dozen; his first victim was David Sheppard.

Although offered a new contract with Gloucestershire in 1960, and by then captaining the 2nd XI, the appeal of Trent Bridge for Wells was irresistible and he stayed with Nottinghamshire until 1965.

Despite his jokey exterior, he had strong views about the game and society; in the dressing room, he took on the reactionaries with his political opinions. His dad had worked the mills and barges, and it was a Labour party family background. Bomber had served a printer's apprenticeship, and he continued to pursue the craft in the winter months. As a rugby referee, he surprised his pals by an unlikely martinet approach. He claimed to have sent off "nearly 30 players, eight of them in one match" while remaining friends with the offenders afterwards.

His affection for the printed word persisted and he featured in two memoirs, Well Well, Wells (1982), written by himself, and One More Run (2000), with Stephen Chalke. His first wife died and he leaves his second, Mary.

Stephen Bates writes ... Bomber Wells was the most remarkable bowler I ever played with in 30 years of club cricket, when he turned out a couple of times for BBC commentator Pat Murphy's team in Leicestershire in the mid-1980s. Seemingly almost as wide as he was tall - and by then in his 50s - he stood at the wicket without a run-up and flicked vicious off-spin of startling variety and pace at the local batsmen, some balls turning an inch, others by a foot or more.

He told us proudly that he'd coached a bowler at his Nottingham league side also to dispense with a run-up, and together they bamboozled other sides by getting through their overs so fast that opponents' 40-over innings were completed in just over an hour.

Bomber had a famous aversion to running singles when he batted, and his county career was littered with the run-outs of his partners. On this occasion, I had scored about 40 when he strolled to the wicket as last man in. If not winning the match, we were certainly saving it. I immediately hit a ball to midwicket for an easy single, called for the run and found myself at the bowler's end, with Bomber waiting for me. "Oi'm not runnin' for that," he said. "'Ee dun you in the floight." I nearly got back to the other end before being run out.